


Stood Up

by IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Getting Together, HEA, Light Angst, M/M, Nerds in Love, One Shot, Summer of 1899
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis/pseuds/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis
Summary: When Gellert disappears, Bathilda is concerned, but Albus is not interested in helping her find him. Until evidence emerges that Gellert has likely not been avoiding Albus, but might actually be in trouble.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Stood Up

**Author's Note:**

> Re: the underage warning - insert the usual Summer of 1899 sort of disclaimer here. If you want more details about what that entails in this particular fic, see the endnotes.
> 
> Note about a song Albus sings in the story:  
>  _Jack Munro_ is a folksong that is found in various forms in England and Scotland and the United States - which is to say, it was passed on in the oral tradition for so long before it was written down that there are any number of versions of the lyrics.  
> I first ran across it in the form 'Jack-A-Roe,' as performed by the Grateful Dead [(Listen to that version here)](https://open.spotify.com/track/3VfzGskNiyciPf5hBEcPmA?si=y8WxQLEDTS2_5-hqWsoQuQ)  
> And I like this version ('Jack Munro,' performed by Polly Paulusma - [listen to it here)](https://open.spotify.com/track/0mrJvvTbtoiImSsZvOnEAW?si=-BPcoxdcT_u8-UkIwjJpgQ)  
> But the tune that I think of Albus singing is more like this recording of 'Jack Monroe,' by Kevin Dempsey and Jacqui McShee [(Listen to it here)](https://open.spotify.com/track/2pJUKbSOwoHRAppEHUjWAk?si=hLGs016xTv6zJwwQhzoU-w)

The clock struck nine, and Albus abruptly leapt to his feet. He had told Aberforth that he would be home by quarter of, to help settle Ariana before bed.

Gellert, who was perched on the arm of a chair as if he were a bird and not a boy, kept talking, but faster and louder, not taking a breath, as if the key to keeping Albus in Bathilda’s sitting room was to prevent him from being heard if he said, ‘good evening.’

“Anyone can see that Wizarding technology is stagnating while Muggle technology is moving forward! We have become _complacent_ as a community – we have lost the sense of wonder and, for that matter –“

“Gellert!” Albus interrupted.

“You didn’t have to shout,” Gellert said indignantly.

“I _did_. I _have to go_. You _know_ I do. I _always_ leave at 8:30. It’s _important_. You ought not to have kept the clock from chiming. I –“

“I did _not_ keep it from chiming!” Gellert protested, at the same time that Albus finished saying, ”… should be upset with you, Merlin knows.“

“You’re not upset with me?” Gellert asked at the same time that Albus said, “You _really_ didn’t place a spell on the clock?”

“Of course not!” Gellert said. “That would be as bad as lying to you. You were so involved in explaining your theory about the rising importance of electricity in Muggle life that you didn’t notice. And – I will confess at least that I didn’t want to interrupt and point it out to you, because I had not considered before that –“

“ _Gellert_. I _have to go_. _Now_.”

Albus picked up the book that Gellert had loaned him earlier in the evening and walked to the door.

“But!” Gellert protested, speeding after him. “You never come before _seven!_ We will _never_ finish a conversation at this rate – “

“I don’t have –“

“ _Time_ , I know, you’ve said, but – surely you are free during the day _sometimes_ …”

Albus walked out the door and Gellert followed him into the lane.

“Gellert, I wish we had more time, too, but –“

“Then let me walk you home, at least. That’s more than ten extra minutes of talking we could fit in – we never take advantage of it.”

If Aberforth saw him…

“You can walk me as far as the churchyard.”

Gellert leapt into the air and then trotted in a circle around Albus. “Yes! Excellent! So, I was thinking. The purpose of many Muggle devices seems to be…”

The walk to the churchyard usually took eight minutes, but it seemed like less than a minute, carried on the steady stream of Gellert’s speculations. The way that he moved seamlessly from magical theory to political philosophy to Muggle culture and back again... it was enthralling.

Albus came to a stop. The sun had set, but not long ago – the sky was indigo, streaked with pale blue clouds, and there were lamps lit in the square. The shops were all closed, and there was no one on the street. He didn’t have the same sense of being chaperoned as he did at Bathilda’s, and while few people would have a sense that two boys needed a chaperone, Albus was desperately aware of how very near to him Gellert was standing.

He had fantasized about the golden-haired boy plenty – it was one of the reasons he did not visit Gellert in the middle of the day – it would not have been possible to behave normally around Gellert so soon after coming while groaning out his name. The one safe time to visit was after dinner, when Ariana and Aberforth were both at their worst. Family dinner burned away any fantastical notions of what his life _might_ be, and left him grateful that caring for his siblings was not the sum total of his existence. He had Gellert every evening for ninety minutes of intellectual stimulation, and at that time of day, he could almost be persuaded that it was all he needed.

He turned to the suddenly uncharacteristically silent boy, and his breath caught as their eyes met. Albus inwardly cursed himself as he felt the blush rise on his cheeks. He hated to leave Gellert at the end of every evening, but he should not have allowed this familiarity.

Gellert grabbed his arm and pulled him into the empty church.

“Gellert?”

Gellert’s lips met his, and Albus nearly exploded. Gellert had never given _any_ indication – none of the ‘accidental’ touches or furtive looks that had preceded rushed broom closet encounters at Hogwarts. Albus had assumed that he was doomed to suffer his attraction in silence.

Still kissing, Albus pushed Gellert up against the wall and pressed his thigh between Gellert’s legs. Gellert moaned.

“Hush,” Albus whispered.

“Albus, please,” Gellert begged.

And then Albus remembered – he was late. He stepped away.

“Fuck, Gellert. I’m sorry.”

“ _Sorry?!_ ” Gellert reached to pull Albus back to him. “That was brilliant! I’ve been wanting –“

“No, I mean – I really do have to get home, Gellert. And this is not the right place. But –“

He stepped closer, intending to lightly kiss Gellert on the lips, but Gellert opened his mouth to Albus right away, and Albus got caught up in the deepening kiss. It had been _months_ since he had kissed _anybody_ , but this was different. This was _Gellert_. This was –

“Merlin,” Albus gasped pulling away. “You are – not easy to walk away from.”

“Good,” Gellert answered, taking Albus’ hand.

“No, I have to, though. But tomorrow –“ Albus thought… “You know the waterfall? About forty minutes walk north of town?”

“There’s a waterfall?” Gellert asked eagerly.

“So, you’ve not been there. Ok… I _could_ apparate you there, but you should make the walk at least once. We could meet at the blackthorn hedge along the side of the Woodland Road… Eleven? I could bring a picnic lunch –“

“Lunch?! You’ve been holding out on me, Dumbledore.”

“I couldn’t risk –“

Albus couldn’t believe he had started there. It was revealing too much. ‘Why not just say ‘I love you,’ while you’re at it, moron?’ he scolded himself.

He tried again: “I didn’t think –“

Gellert cut Albus off with another kiss. “Never mind. You are making time for me _now_. Tomorrow! Lunch!”

Gellert pulled out of Albus’ reach and spun around as if he were dancing. “Don’t be late Dumbledore!” he scolded merrily and walked out the door of the church.

Albus stood there in a daze, gazing at the heavy wooden door through which the exuberant boy had disappeared. Then he remembered where he was meant to be and groaned. Aberforth was going to be furious.

>><><<

Ariana had sent Albus back out to the garden after lunch, to cut some dahlias for the table. She had suggested that he cut some to carry over to Miss Bagshot, as well, who had made a pie for them earlier that week, but Albus was unwilling to risk seeing Gellert.

The day before, Albus had arrived at the blackthorn hedge fifteen minutes ahead of schedule and waited there for more than an hour, but Gellert had never shown. Albus had been too embarrassed to go to Bathilda’s that evening, and Gellert hadn’t sent an owl inquiring after his absence, either – which he would have done if he had simply forgotten about their lunch plans, somehow. Though how he could have _forgotten_ a kiss like that…

Now, Albus wasn’t so much embarrassed as he was angry. It seemed that Gellert had changed his mind – that the kiss had been impulsive, or an experiment, or perhaps a prank, even. The most generous possibility was that Gellert wasn’t ready to admit to himself that he was attracted to a boy. Whatever it was, it was cowardly of Gellert to pretend that it hadn’t happened at all – and cruel of him to let Albus wonder without a word. The next move was Gellert’s, and if he was not going to move, then neither was Albus.

In any case, he would not be going to Bathilda’s looking like _this_ – his shirt was already sweat drenched and sticking to his back after only twenty minutes under the sun. Albus couldn’t remember a summer so hot as this one.

“Albus! I’m so glad to see you outside!” Bathilda called. Speak of the devil’s great-aunt. She seemed breathless, Albus noticed. She must have been hurrying.

Albus stood from where he had been squatting beside the flower bed. He held the bouquet of fresh cut flowers like a shield.

“Oh! How lovely!” Bathilda said, interrupting herself.

They _were_ lovely – each bloom a profusion of white petals edged in red, no flower less than five inches across, some closer to six. Ariana’s dahlias were as striking and exuberant as the boy that Albus was trying so hard not to think about.

“Won’t you come inside?” Albus asked.

“No, I couldn’t,” Bathilda demurred. “I don’t want to disturb your sweet sister.”

“You wouldn’t be –“

“You see,” Bathilda continued, “It’s Gellert. He’s missing. So, I’m afraid that it _would_ be a disturbance. I know you were ready to say that it wouldn’t be, but in this case – I’m too upset, Albus, and I don’t want to worry the child with my own worry.”

“What do you mean, _missing?_ ” Albus asked.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t sleep at home last night, I don’t think,” Bathilda said.

Albus’ heart clenched at that. Not that it was any of _his_ business where Gellert spent the night. He could have his pick of any girl in town, Albus was sure, looking the way he did, with that long golden curly hair, and his big soft brown eyes that held you with an intensity that made it seem as if you were actually important to him. His hands… were none of Albus’ concern. Gellert could touch anyone he wanted to with them. Albus had _no claim_.

“Was he here?” She continued.

“Here?!” Albus practically shouted in alarm. He took a breath and gathered himself. “Why did you think he might be _here?_ ” He asked.

“I had just… hoped,” Bathilda answered.

She wouldn’t be hoping for her nephew to have spent the night with Albus if she knew what they had been up to in the church the night before last, if she knew how many hours Albus had spent alone in his room for two weeks before that imagining kissing the boy, touching him, removing his clothes, making him come…

“So, he wasn’t even here for lunch, yesterday? Or dinner?”

Albus scoffed. “ _Lunch?_ _Yesterday?_ No.”

“That surprises me. I thought sure he would have come here first. The two of you seem to share so many interests.”

Apparently _not_.

“I’m sorry that I can’t help you,” Albus said.

Bathilda’s face fell. “No, it’s not your fault, dear. I just – don’t know where else to look.”

Seeing the lady’s distress, Albus felt ashamed of himself. Bathilda seemed genuinely concerned. He could at least _try_ to help. “When is the last time you saw him?”

“Yesterday morning, early. Perhaps half past seven? He was almost out the door when I asked if he didn’t want breakfast. He said that he had already eaten, and he was in a bit of a hurry – that I was not to expect him back until dinner at the earliest. When I came out of my study for dinner, he wasn’t in the house or the garden, but he _had_ said ‘at the earliest,’ so I wasn’t more than a little concerned. I went to bed early, so when I got up this morning, I naturally imagined that he had come in when I was asleep. And from time to time he sleeps through breakfast, so I didn’t think much of it when he didn’t come down when I called. But when it was time for lunch, I went to his bedroom – and his bed hadn’t been slept in.”

“And all of his things are there?”

“His clothes and books and papers – yes. His wand, no.”

“Thank Merlin,” Albus breathed, not realizing until that moment that he was starting to become concerned about Gellert’s safety, himself. If Gellert had been with a girl, surely he would have returned home by now. It seemed certain that he had gotten into some kind of trouble. But as long as he had his wand…

“The graveyard,” Albus murmured, “the church, the ruins just outside of town, the low stone wall at the pony pasture…” those were the only places he could think of where the boy might have spent the night unnoticed. He tried not to think about the likelihood that something had happened to him far _before_ nightfall – perhaps even before he was meant to meet Albus.

“I doubt he knows about the ruins, Dear.”

“No – he – he does,” Albus asserted. Gellert had been enthusing about the view from the priory tower one evening. Albus remembered advising him to apparate the next time, because the stairs were badly crumbled. It had led to a discussion of what made a risk worth taking, which sounded an awful lot like flirting, upon reflection. _Had_ something happened to prevent Gellert from showing up for their picnic?

Albus looked over his shoulder at the house, then back at Bathilda. “Would you – like me to look for him for you?” Albus asked, feigning the same skeptical reluctance that had been his genuine disposition just five minutes before. “I suppose I have a couple of ideas.”

“I would appreciate that, dear.”

Albus nodded. “I’ll, umm – I just have to let Aberforth know. Here –“ he said, thrusting the dahlias at Bathilda awkwardly. “Ariana wanted you to have these.”

“That’s lovely of you, dear,” Bathilda said, taking the bouquet with a faint smile. “You’ll let me know if you find him?”

“Of course. I’ll bring him right back when I find him,” Albus promised, not wanting to admit that it was just as likely that Gellert was not findable - or at least not by Albus.

“You are as kind as you are clever,” Bathilda answered, which made Albus feel terrible, given that he had not been inclined to help her, initially. He watched her walk away down the lane, waiting to go inside until she had rounded the bend.

In the kitchen, Albus drank a glass of water and looked out the window over the sink, looking thoughtfully at the place where he and Bathilda had stood talking about Gellert. He should be preparing to leave to look for the other boy, but he couldn’t make himself move. What if something _terrible_ had happened to Gellert? What if it was too late? If Gellert actually _had_ meant to meet him the day before and had gotten in such trouble that he had been unable to come… how bad must it be if he couldn’t owl his apologies?

There was no good answer. Either Gellert had thoughtlessly abandoned everyone without a thought for their worry, simply in order to go off on an adventure, or he was in terrible trouble. Or he had panicked over the kiss and left town, leaving all of his things behind. Or he had never meant to meet Albus at all and had gotten into trouble after having already stood Albus up – in which case Albus was disinclined to save him. In any case, after so many hours, it was hard to believe that Gellert had simply lost track of time.

No, either it was too late for Albus to be of much assistance, or Gellert was fine and would be annoyed to be interrupted if Albus found him.

Unless he didn’t see Albus as an interruption. He _had_ seemed to enjoy Albus’ company until now. Perhaps Gellert would be _glad_ to see him. Albus imagined Gellert pulling him into his arms, kissing him like he had in the church, but this time with nothing to stop him from going further, from unfastening the buttons of Albus’ shirt, running his hands over Albus’ chest, pushing the shirt off of his shoulders…

“Did you bring my flowers?”

Albus turned around and saw that Ariana had come into the kitchen while he was standing at the sink. He moved to stand behind a kitchen chair, hiding the too-slowly subsiding bulge in his trousers.

“I’ll cut more for you later today – I gave the ones I cut to Bathilda, after all.”

“Oh! I’m so glad!” said Ariana. “And how is her nephew?”

“I’m not sure,” Albus answered, as truthfully as he dared, “I didn’t see him.”

“Oh,” said Ariana. “That’s too bad.”

Albus hadn’t realized that she had an opinion. Or was even aware of the existence of Gellert.

“He has been looking for you, I think. He was the one who delivered the pie. He asked after you.”

“He – what?” Albus asked, surprised.

“I told him you were out for a walk,” Ariana continued. “He wanted to know who you were walking _with_ , which seemed an odd question to me. People usually are more interested in _where_ a person is walking _to_. He asked about your girlfriend. Do you have a girlfriend, Albus?”

Merlin. Gellert _was_ interested in Albus. That kiss hadn’t been impulsive at all – it had been _planned_. Which meant that Gellert _had_ intended to meet Albus the day before. Which meant that Bathilda was, if anything, _under_ -reacting. He had to leave _now_.

He took a handful of the parsley he had cut for that night’s dinner and began chewing it. There were breath freshening charms, of course, but the natural way was best, sometimes. Not that he was _expecting_ … What was he doing?! This was an _emergency_ , and here he was prioritizing a kiss that there would likely be no opportunity for?! How stupid was he, exactly? Still... he should rinse his mouth now, make sure that there was no parsley stuck to his teeth…

‘For Merlin’s sake! _Hurry up_ , Dumbledore.’ He thought. Then he added, ‘But don’t _look like_ you’re in a hurry.’

“No, no girlfriend,” Albus said with a relaxed smile. “But I _do_ like a good walk, and I’ve not ventured beyond the garden all day. I’m going to go find Aberforth, let him know I’m going out for a couple of hours. I’ll cut more flowers for you when I get back.”

“Ok,” Ariana agreed, standing on tiptoes to kiss Albus on the cheek. “Be careful.”

When she dropped back down on flat feet, Albus kissed the top of her head. “Always.”

Aberforth was in the cellar, tinkering with a keg of beer. Albus was grudgingly impressed that Aberforth was able to keep up their mother’s brewing. She had been so much busier than Albus had known – even dividing up the work between the two of them, there were things that were not getting done.

“I’m going for a walk,” Albus announced. “I can go through the centre of the village on the way back, if you need me to buy anything.”

“Rice,” Aberforth answered. “Canning jars, salt, tobacco…”

“Tobacco?!” Albus asked incredulously. “You can buy your own tobacco. I’m not buying that for you.”

“You asked.”

“You are _fifteen_. What kind of jars?”

Aberforth lifted a jar off the shelf and gestured at Albus with it. “This kind.” He set it back down and returned his attention to the keg. “Your night to make dinner,” he added. “Don’t be late again.”

Albus tensed. What did Aberforth mean ‘again?’ Albus had made all of his meals on time for at least a week. He had made dinner late only once all summer. But it wasn’t worth arguing over. Albus was in a hurry. Instead he simply said, “Dinner at quarter past six,” and left Aberforth behind in the cellar. He told Ariana where to find Aberforth and went up to his room.

Albus stripped off his sweaty shirt and examined his reflection. He had added five inches in the past year, and six more over the two years before that - it had stretched him out. He would have liked to have been broader in the shoulders, more muscular, less lanky looking in general. Maybe he had finished growing taller, finally, and he could start filling out his frame. Not soon enough…

“As if your shirt is _actually_ coming off as part of this expedition,” Albus scolded himself in the mirror. But now that he knew that Gellert had been inquiring about his romantic interests, it was hard to think of much else – even the very serious task before him.

He quickly washed his face, his neck, his chest, his arms, his back… He sniffed under his arms and washed there a second time, just to be safe. Then he unbraided his hair and brushed it out. He did have nice hair. It was maybe his best feature. Not that keeping it down like this was very practical. He tied it back with a simple white ribbon at the nape of his neck, and quickly put on a fresh shirt. He hesitated over a waistcoat. “It must be 90 degrees out there,” he admonished, "you'll be drenched before you go a mile." He opted to roll up his sleeves instead.

He had delayed long enough - too long. Albus was too far gone over the handsome blond to pretend that he did not know why he was bothering over his appearance, but if this was a rescue, Gellert wouldn’t thank him to show up too late to be of assistance in marginally cleaner trousers.

>><><<

Albus decided to save the church and the graveyard for last – he would have to go to the centre of town to shop, anyway. No sense in going there twice. That left the priory ruins and the pasture wall.

‘Perhaps I should check the blackthorn hedge as well?’ Albus wondered. ‘If Gellert is disoriented enough, he might not know what day it is…’

No, that was in the opposite direction from everything else. It would be a last resort. Albus thought he could probably skip the pasture wall, for that matter. It wasn't particularly well sheltered. Why would Gellert spend the night there when there were other, better choices? Although… wherever it was that Gellert had spent the night, there was no reason for him to be there now. Perhaps he had ended up at the wall sometime after he woke?

Albus sighed. He would be checking the pasture wall after all. It was on the way to the priory anyway.

Twenty minutes later, the wall came into sight, as empty as it ever had been until the day he had seen Gellert there, looking out over the open field. It had been almost two weeks before – Albus had only just met Gellert, and when Gellert had waved at him Albus had waved back but had kept on walking. He had not trusted himself not to give away his interest.

Albus walked along both sides of the wall, hoping for a sign that Gellert had been there. But there was nothing. Discouraged, he sat down on the wall for a moment, in the very spot where he had seen Gellert sitting.

‘What was Gellert thinking about, that day?’ Albus wondered. ‘What would have happened if I had sat next to him?’

Albus had spent the walk from town trying to think of clues. Most of what he knew about Gellert did not tell him very much about what sort of trouble he might have gotten into or where he might have gone. Where he was from (Hungary), how he took his tea (with significantly less sugar than Albus), what he thought about the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy (asinine) – none of that really helped Albus. Actually, the last was a matter of concern, if anything, because it removed certain limits that might apply to other wizards. Gellert having performed magic in a Muggle area could not be ruled out.

Gellert was full of energy, always moving – he could be miles away on his own two feet, and with a wand… who knew where he might have apparated to? He was ‘in a hurry,’ he had said. To do what? Had he been going somewhere alone? Or meeting someone? Had he trusted an unsafe person? Albus thought that was unlikely – Gellert complained of knowing no one in Godric’s Hollow – it was one of the reasons he gave for wanting Albus to come by more often – ‘everyone else is boring.’ It was likely that Gellert had done something reckless all by himself, and that the consequences had caught up to him.

Albus despaired of finding Gellert at all. How arrogant he had been, to think that he had enough insight to imagine where Gellert might have gone. But thinking that way was not helping, and he had promised Bathilda that he would help. Albus might not know Gellert well, but Bathilda had come to him thinking that he knew Gellert better than anyone else _in Godric's Hollow_ , and that was almost certainly true. Albus couldn't be sure of that, of course, but it seemed unlikely that Gellert was lying about his loneliness.

Albus thought back to their conversation about what made a risk worth taking. Albus had concluded that some risks were gratuitous – that there were oftentimes less dangerous ways to get an identical result. But then Gellert had contributed, ‘You cannot call it an 'identical result' if the danger adds to the excitement.’ Which… sounded very much like safety was not one of Gellert’s priorities, in general.

Albus looked down at the wall while he tried to think of more clues, and there he saw the indentations that his fingers had been stroking idly, unconsciously.

A.D.

Albus’ initials were carved in the stone, right where Gellert had been sitting. It looked fresh. Had Gellert…? He must have. Albus blushed, thinking of the scrap of parchment he had started doodling Gellert’s initials on, when he was supposed to be writing a letter to his aunt. He had not trusted Ariana not to look through his things, so he had burnt it. But this – this was _permanent_. And vandalism, which Albus knew should probably bother him, but – this was _intentional_ – and magical – it would have required a wand to do with any stealth and speed.

Albus felt guilty – he had been so angry at Gellert for playing with his emotions, but the whole time, Gellert had truly been interested in Albus. And if he had not been so quick to think the worst of Gellert, perhaps he could have started searching sooner…

It wouldn’t do any good to think about that. He was looking now, and he was determined to find him. Gellert wasn’t here – it was time to move on.

“Tower,” he said out loud, decisively.

As he walked, Albus started reciting the succession backwards, just to occupy his brain with something other than his worries about what might have befallen his friend. His maybe-something-more-than-a-friend? His maybe-gravely-injured maybe-more-than-a-friend?

"Victoria, William, George, George, George…" Why were there so many Georges? "If you say George often enough, it stops sounding like a word," Albus observed out loud to himself, then he picked up again, "George. George four times altogether. George, George, George, George, Anne, William again. Should I say, 'William and Mary' instead? He was king for a bit after she died. Should I say, 'William,' _then,_ 'William and Mary?' Even though it's the same William?"

Ugh. Who cared? Gellert was missing and the Queen was totally irrelevant.The government would carry on seamlessly if Victoria died, just as it had with William and George and all the other Georges. But if Gellert - if Gellert were...

This was not helping. Albus would have to come up with something else.

Albus started singing a song that his father had taught him long ago about a man who had rid a town of rats, and of the faithless town council that refused to pay, and of the man taking all of the town’s children… hmm. That was more morbid than he had remembered. He walked in silence for a bit, thinking about old songs his father had sung, and about how many of them had been about death or loss or betrayal. Hadn’t he sung any happy songs?

“Jack Munro!” Albus remembered. That one started off grim and became happy, rather than the other way around. He walked on towards the priory, singing about a young woman dressing as a man and running away from her disapproving father, sailing away to find her lover, who had been gone a long time and not come back.

“It would not change my countenance to see ten thousand fall,” he sang, remembering how he had aspired to such fearlessness when he was small. Now, he thought it meant something different – Jack would not let anything stand between her and the man she loved – not her father, not the ship’s captain, not hopelessness, not even the cannonballs flying over a bloody battlefield. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel any fear, but that her fear did not cause her to turn her face from the path that she had chosen – her fear would never be so great as her determination.

It was, Albus thought, a good song to sing when searching for a beloved and reckless Wizard.

Albus tramped on, singing the young woman’s story until he came to the happy reunion, and the invitation, “This couple they got married, so well’s they do agree. This couple they got married, so –“ the tower came into sight, and Albus pulled in his voice self-consciously, finishing more quietly, “why not you and me?”

“Nicely done, Albus,” he muttered, “bellow a marriage proposal at him, why don’t you?” Albus could feel himself blushing. “It’s fine,” he answered himself roughly, “he won’t be here, anyway.”

The priory tower had two open archways, and a roofed area, and off to the right, some stairs leading up to the open top of the tower, some eighteen feet above the ground. Attached to the tower was a wall with openings where windows had once been.

Albus first walked along the outside edge of the wall. He leaned in one of the window openings and called out, "Gellert?" But not too loud, because he felt foolish calling out in a clearly empty ruin.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement in the tall grass against the inside wall, just a few feet from where it met the tower. Had he been imagining it? He walked back along the wall, rounding the end of it and entering the priory ruins. "Hello?" he tried again.

Yes, there it was again - the grass had moved in that same place. A breeze would have moved all of the grass - not just that little patch.

Albus took his wand in his right hand and brushed the grass aside with his left. It was only a hedgehog. “Hey, little guy,” Albus said. The hedgehog did not curl up as it should have done. Instead it looked up at Albus, meeting Albus’ gaze and holding it unwaveringly. The fur around his face was not the right colour. It was golden. And – was that Gellert’s wand that he was standing on?

“Gellert?” Albus asked.

_Now_ the hedgehog rolled into a ball. If it really _was_ a hedgehog. Albus thought about it. Had Gellert performed his first Animagus transformation? _By himself?_ And then not been able to change back?

There was a reason that Albus had never attempted the Animagus transformation. No, there were _multiple_ reasons – dozens of horror stories that his Transfiguration professor had shared with the class. And dozens more that Albus had found on his own when researching, hoping to find evidence that his professor had been exaggerating, and instead discovering that he had undersold the danger.

Apparently, Gellert had thought it was worth the risk. And now look at him. He had been stuck in a hedgehog’s body for perhaps as much as 30 hours.

Either that, or this _was_ just a hedgehog, and Gellert had been separated from his wand, which would be even worse news.

Albus sat and laid his hand on the ground, palm up.

“If you are Gellert, then please unroll and walk over to me.”

The hedgehog unrolled and walked over to Albus.

“You know who I am? Can you trace my initial in my palm with your nose?”

The hedgehog traced an A.

“Oh, thank Merlin. I’ve been so worried about you." For the past hour, anyway. And he was not through worrying, now that he had found the young wizard in _this_ condition. "Are you stuck?”

Gellert dashed away from Albus and disappeared into the grass at the base of the wall.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed about it. You did it perfectly, you know? You’re not stuck somewhere in between, like happens to some people. You look a proper hedgehog.” Aside from the blond face and belly, but it wouldn’t be kind to say so. Especially when Albus thought that the anomaly made him look much cuter than your average hedgehog. And retaining something personal was a _good_ sign. Some people transformed a little further than they had meant to and lost their minds in the process.

“Come on out, Gellert, please? I'm sure you are tired of being a hedgehog at this point. I can help.”

There was no answer. Not even a rustling in the grass.

"Dammit, Gellert! Do you know how many ways there are to transform incorrectly? Some of them _permanent?!_ Would you please let go of your pride for long enough for us to - Fuck. Fuck. I'm sorry. It's fine. You're fine. I'm sure you're fine. Just - Fuck. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was just - scared, ok?”

Albus waited. Still no hedgehog.

It occured to Albus that he _could_ simply lift Gellert out of his hiding place, but that seemed rude. No matter how small he was at the moment, he was still Gellert on the inside. It wouldn't be right to take advantage of his vulnerability that way. There had to be a way to _talk_ him back out into the open.

“I’m surprised a badger hasn’t found you yet. There’s one lives near here, you know.”

The hedgehog’s face poked out from between the blades of grass. He was _adorable._ Not that he would likely appreciate Albus saying so.

“You’re still too close to the wall.”

The hedgehog waddled out into the open. Albus pointed his wand at the hedgehog who quacked in alarm.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” Albus hastened to reassure him. “I’m best in transfiguration in decades, my professor said. And I'm only going to try one spell: a specialized animagus transformation cancelling charm. Assuming you transformed correctly - and it looks like you did - then bringing you back should be no trouble at all. Please?”

Gellert quacked again. That sounded like an unhappy noise. Albus wasn't sure how to assess if that meant, 'no, you may not charm me,' or if that meant, 'please do charm me, why are you taking so long?' or if that meant 'I don't trust you, but I'm allowing this grudgingly.' But Gellert was _not_ retreating, and there really was no better option for how to handle this situation, so...

Albus waved his wand, and immediately, in the place of the hedgehog, there was a _very naked_ Gellert.

Albus was paralyzed with surprise. It took him a moment before he regained his senses enough to scramble up to standing and turn around.

“You prefer me as a hedgehog?” Gellert asked. His voice was gorgeous. Resonant, amused, his accent not so heavy as to make his words difficult to understand, but heavy enough to sound exotic somehow. Albus had missed the sound of Gellert’s voice so much that he almost turned back to look at him before remembering _Gellert was naked_.

“Where are your _clothes?!_ ” Albus squawked. “Why didn’t you transform with your _clothes_ on?!”

“I read that it is more painful to change with clothes,” Gellert explained, “so, I took them off and hid them in the tower.”

“Can you please put them _back on?_ “

“Are you sure?” Gellert asked, in a teasing tone. Albus’ brain was still not functioning. All he could think about was that glimpse of Gellert, all of that beautiful beautiful bare skin, the golden hair on his legs catching the sunlight, his soft cock... Albus very much _did not_ want for Gellert to put his clothes back on. He wanted to turn around and go to Gellert, to take his time over the other boy's body, to explore him thoroughly with his mouth and his hands, to suck his cock until it hardened in his mouth and then keep going.

If only they were ready for that. But it was too early for that, right? Yes. Yes, right.

But Gellert was right there… and _already undressed_...

Albus made a strangled noise, and Gellert laughed.

“I will put on my clothes, and we will talk.”

Gellert continued speaking, his voice moving farther away, “Although... perhaps you should take _yours_ off. It seems only fair, given that you –“

“Not my fault!” Albus called, his capacity for thought finally returning. “You won’t get me out of my clothes that easily!”

“Good. Make me work for it,” Gellert called back.

Sweet Merlin. He hoped that Gellert didn’t expect Albus to make him work for it _too_ hard. The very invitation was causing Albus’ resolve to slip. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt anything if Albus were to...

“I’m dressed now,” Gellert called. “You can look at me.”

Albus turned. Gellert was standing in one of the tower archways, looking a bit uncertain. Albus wanted to say something reassuring, but he didn’t know what Gellert had to feel anxious about. Everything about him was perfect.

“Hedgehog!” Gellert complained. “It is too embarrassing.”

Was _that_ what was worrying him? “You were adorable,” Albus couldn’t resist telling him.

“I didn’t become an Animagus to be _adorable!_ I wanted to be something _impressive_ , like a wolf. Or impressive _and useful_ , like a hawk. Some people get to _fly!_ There should be a way to choose.”

This begged the question: “Why _did_ you become an Animagus?”

“Well, I suppose if you wanted to hide – I mean, as long as you didn’t register, which honestly, as I am not British, seems _perfectly_ justifiable...”

“You _suppose?_ That’s not why you did it then. You – " Albus had the most appalling thought. "Tell me you did not do this just to see if you could!”

Gellert looked offended. “Of course, I knew that I _could._ It was a _challenge_ , obviously, but if my lunatic Transfiguration professor was capable of it…”

“You didn’t have a reason…” Albus muttered, mystified. He sat down in the opening in the wall above where he had found Gellert and rested his head in his hand.

“Godric’s Hollow is fantastically boring. That should be reason enough to try to find something to –“

“Not since you’ve arrived,” Albus said quietly. "It was boring _before_ , but not since -"

“Oh?” Gellert asked, sounding pleased. He came and sat down next to Albus.

Albus shoved Gellert half-heartedly. “You could have been _eaten_ , Gellert. And there would have been no sign of you except for your wand, which might not have been found at all, or might have been dragged off by a jarvey, or… what were you _thinking?_ Why didn’t you confide in me? If I had been here, I could have – “

“You could have tried to talk me out of it?”

Albus probably would have made a nuisance of himself with his nagging, yes. But if Gellert had insisted on following through anyway, then Albus would have given up and simply - been there for him. In case. In case of something _like this_.

“Luckily, I was _not_ eaten. And you found me, so I will not have to eat raw snails for tomorrow’s breakfast. Though they were not so bad as I would have thought…”

Raw snails?! Albus cast a breath freshening charm on Gellert. Gellert laughed in surprise.

Albus turned and pressed his lips to Gellert’s. He pulled back a fraction, and Gellert laid his hand on Albus’ neck and ran his finger along his jaw. “Please, Albus.”

Albus hopped out of the window and took Gellert’s hand, intending to pull him down. Instead Gellert pulled Albus closer, until they were flush against one another, then he wrapped his legs around Albus’ waist and pressed his lips to Albus’ again. All of Albus’ hurt and indignation and insecurity, all of his worries disappeared. There was no room for them – there was only Gellert’s mouth and tongue and hands and legs.

Gellert moaned. “Oh, I like that noise,” Albus murmured appreciatively. He sucked on Gellert’s neck and the boy moaned louder.

“That’s… good…” Gellert struggled to say, “but…”

Albus tried to think of what might come after ‘but…’ and decided that if Gellert didn’t care to say, then he didn’t care to ask. He returned his mouth to Gellert’s, who grunted happily.

But before long, Albus needed more friction. Gellert was too high up - they were not really aligned properly. He laid his hand on Gellert’s arse and ran it down to his upper thigh and made a lifting motion. Gellert stopped kissing Albus a moment, pulling back enough to say, “Oh! You mean…” Gellert latched his legs around Albus more tightly, and Albus stepped away from the wall, lowering Gellert down a bit as he went, so that his legs were nearer Albus' hips. Gellert resumed kissing him as Albus carried him to the grass. “Down,” Albus said, “I can’t… I’ll drop you if I try…”

“Not here - Tower,” Gellert suggested, before returning to kissing Albus.

Gellert was becoming heavy in Albus’ arms. “You’ll have to hop down,” Albus warned. “I’m not carrying you –“

“Hold on,” Gellert said, pulling out his wand. “Don’t let go of me and –“

They were on the tower. Gellert had side-along apparated him to the top of the tower. It occurred to Albus vaguely that that had been a reckless thing to do - that he would have been upset if _anyone else_ had done that to him without waiting for him to agree. But all he cared about was -

"Splinched?" he asked, dropping Gellert to his feet.

“Of course not!" Gellert answered. He reached up and pulled Albus' head down towards him, and just before their lips met, he paused long enough to ask, "You?"

"Hmm?" Albus asked, not understanding the question. Oh! Splinched. He shook his head.

Gellert closed the gap. Albus loved Gellert's mouth, but he needed more. He took a step back, pulled out his wand and cast a cushioning charm on the paving stones.

“Oh…” Gellert said, understanding what Albus intended. He transfigured his waistcoat into a thick blanket, laid it on the floor, and sat on it. Albus sat too, then lay back and reached for Gellert. “Yes… Good…” Gellert lay down between Albus’ legs. "Now?"

Albus hummed an affirmative, and Gellert began devouring him. Albus pushed his hips up, and Gellert thrust against him and Gellert continued making the noises that Albus loved, until he began to make new, ‘I am getting very close’ noises, which was closely followed by him rubbing against Albus more frantically.

“Gellert, please…” Albus begged, though he didn’t know what he was begging for. Gellert was doing everything perfectly. “Just like this – just like – ungh!” Albus cried, proving that he was also noisy, just not so _persistently_ noisy.

“I – love you!” Albus cried out, and he came. Gellert rocked against him another couple of times, and then pushed against him very hard and groaned. He looked at Albus as if he were the most rare and astonishing thing in existence and kissed him gently on the lips.

“I –“ Albus began, embarrassed. He couldn’t say ‘I love you’ – that was _absurd_. They had only kissed for the first time two days before. Just that morning, he had woken determined never to speak to Gellert again, and now he had said –

“It’s ok,” Gellert said, “It doesn’t count if you say it when you’re coming.” Albus wasn’t sure if that was a ridiculous rule, or a wise one. “I can pretend I didn’t hear it.”

“Can you?” Albus asked.

Gellert looked at Albus thoughtfully, then kissed him again. “No, probably not,” he said with a shy smile that Albus had not seen before. “Do you mean it at least a little bit?”

Albus meant it entirely. He pulled Gellert down for a kiss and then held him close so that he wouldn’t have to see Gellert’s face as he said, “More than a little bit.”

“Thank fuck,” Gellert declared.

>><><<

They were not able to lie together as long as Albus would have liked, but he had promised Bathilda that he would bring Gellert home – she still did not know what had happened to him. And he had to think that Gellert was hungry.

Gellert had pinned Albus’ shoulders, refusing to let him move until he promised to visit Gellert again after dinner – and to meet him the next day for the missed waterfall excursion. Albus allowed the illusion that the smaller boy had him trapped, and had resisted committing for an irresponsibly long time, knowing that once he agreed, Gellert would remove himself from Albus – as Albus had asked him to do.

Soon they were walking down the path together that led down the hill and towards the town.

“What was your plan?” Albus asked. “You must have had a plan for getting out of your predicament.”

“Take a nap and hope that I accidentally changed back in my sleep,” Gellert said. “Then, wake up and try changing consciously again. And repeat.”

“What about going for help?”

“That’s a long way to go over open country. Speaking of getting eaten. And I wasn’t going to leave my wand, and it was – I tried dragging it, at first. I drank the potion in the tower, so you see how far I got. I spent more than four hours, and travelled less than six feet. I finally decided that was not the way. So that left waiting. How did you find me?”

“I was thinking of places where you might spend the night unnoticed, places I knew that you knew about. This was one of them.”

“How many other places did you look first?”

“Only the pasture wall.” Albus cast a Tempus. “Bathilda came to my house looking for you two and a half hours ago.”

“Two and a – no one noticed I was missing until _two and a half hours ago?!_ ”

“Bathilda noticed three and a half hours ago. I guess she didn’t want to interrupt my family at lunchtime.”

“But - but you didn't notice _either?_ “

Albus looked around – there was no one in sight. He stopped walking and took Gellert’s hand. The boy looked hurt. Albus reached for Gellert’s face, but he dodged and dropped Albus’ hand.

“Gellert. We kissed, and then – then you disappeared right afterwards, without a word. What would you have thought in my place?”

“That you were in trouble! What did _you_ think?”

That wasn’t fair. Albus had been the one left behind. “You would _not!_ We had only kissed the once, and you had given _no_ signs before, and I waited for you for _so long_ by the hedge. And –”

It had awakened Albus’ every fear about becoming attached to Gellert, about letting his affections be known – that Gellert would not feel the same way, that Albus would be made to look foolish, that all Albus was to Gellert was an entertainment, that Gellert enjoyed Albus’ company only because there was no real alternative in their village. Gellert would find Albus easy to give up, and Albus would be left alone, nothing more than a caretaker to his two younger siblings.

“Why wouldn’t I show up? _Albus!_ The way I kissed you, you _must_ have known… But no! That – no, just – forget that. Forget the kiss. _Before_ that, even, when we were just... How could you think that I would treat you like that? Just _ignore_ you? You are… you are…”

Albus waited, but Gellert didn’t finish the thought. Albus would have liked to have known what Gellert was about to say he was. He wasn’t sure what he could say to Gellert that wasn’t risking exposing himself too much.

‘More than saying, 'I love you?'’ he scolded himself.

Yeah, maybe. ‘I love you,’ was not particularly specific as to the ways in which he was vulnerable. And yet if he didn’t risk still more, he might lose Gellert before they’d done more than begin.

“It _wasn’t_ before the kiss, though, was it? If it had been, I would have showed up at Bathilda's, and you wouldn't have been there, and I would have told her that I thought it was strange. But this was... I never did come to your house last night. I was expecting you to send some sort of explanation, and when you didn't... Gellert, why would you want _me?_ You could have _anyone_."

"You are too smart to be this stupid! Why would I want _anyone_ when I could have _you?"_

Gellert threw himself at Albus and kissed him, which made Albus feel a bit nervous, as they were out in the open. He pulled away. He meant to protest that they needed to hurry back so that Bathilda would stop worrying and so that Albus could shop for groceries, but instead he found himself pointing out that they were only a minute’s walk from the pasture wall.

Gellert ran to the wall and hopped over it, and Albus loped after him. When Albus had joined him, Gellert pulled him down so that they were hidden from the road.

“Never be that stupid again, Albus Dumbledore. I will _always_ want you.”

“You can’t promise –“

“I _can_. There is no one like you. No one. If I had to choose between never speaking to you again and never speaking to anyone else, I would choose to keep your company at the expense of all the world.”

“That doesn’t mean –“

Gellert cut him off with a kiss, erasing every protest from Albus’ mind. He was _yes_ personified. And yet when Gellert pulled Albus’ shirt free of his trousers, Albus remembered himself. He broke the kiss and stopped Gellert’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Gellert. I’m sorry I thought you were – you were ignoring me. I had thought of kissing you _so many times_ , had wanted you constantly since the first _day_. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone, anything at all. And it – the more I want something…”

“The less likely you are to get it? But, Albus - ”

"No, I - there's more. I’m sorry I didn’t come looking for you sooner. That I didn’t come to your house last night to check and see if you were ok. I’m sorry I was waiting on you to owl when all the time you were shivering alone in the grass, wondering if you would make it back home.”

Gellert took Albus’ hand and ran his thumb along his palm, electrifying it. How had he lived without this feeling before?

“Albus, no. I – I mean, yes, thank you. But – I am the one who did not show up for our lunch. I should also say that I am sorry. You were there, as you said you would be, and I was not. And it is because I failed to – I – I will try to do better. In the future.”

Then, before Albus could reply with something reassuring, Gellert grinned and added, “Besides, I have more than adequately revenged myself on you for your lack of faith in me.”

It was only then that Albus noticed that they were sitting in the mud.

“Not much of a revenge. _Your_ clothes are muddy, too.”

“Perhaps I deserved punishing, as well,” Gellert answered.

Albus pushed Gellert down and straddled him. As their lips met, Gellert’s mouth opened, and Albus welcomed his soft and searching tongue. Gellert rolled Albus over, so that now they were both covered in mud. Albus knew he should be furious, but all he could think was –

“Not much of a punishment, either.”

Gellert laughed. He dipped his finger into the mud and then streaked it down Albus’ cheek before kissing him again.

“I love you too,” he declared when he pulled away. He stood and reached his hand down to Albus, helping him up to standing. “I love you even enough to stop kissing you so you can get home for dinner.”

Albus looked at him, astonished. Gellert _loved_ him! He was so giddy, he couldn’t resist teasing, “You do not care about me being on time for dinner! You want only for me to _finish_ dinner in time to come see _you!_ ”

Gellert grinned. “That is probably true. Either way, it is time to clean up and go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilery expansion of the underage warning:  
> I labelled this underage out of an abundance of caution. Both boys are of age by legal standards in England (assuming that Gellert was already 16 when he came to Godric's Hollow, rather than turning 16 that summer), both at the time and in the modern day. And any contact between them beyond fully clothed frotting happens entirely in Albus’ imagination. Which is the sort of contact that is not illegal even if Gellert were 15.  
> But... some people feel more comfortable with 18 as a standard, and Gellert is definitely not 18. And Albus might not be, either.  
> So - if you are in that boat, you might want to be aware that there are mentions of Albus masturbating, and some significantly less clothed contact between him and Gellert that occur only in Albus' imagination.
> 
> **Other spoilery comments**
> 
> * This fic would probably not exist if I had not had an irrepressible urge to make Gellert some sort of embarrassingly non-threatening animagus. 
> 
> ** I pretty much only accept the 7 HP books as canon - I'll draw on other bits, but consider everything other than the original books to be optional content. So I'm ignoring both the heterochromatic eyes introduced for Gellert's character in FB, as well as the whole 'mandrake leaf -> lightning storm' process of becoming an animagus. FWIW


End file.
